Demon
by Patrick the Fan
Summary: Years after his father's mysterious death one night, Michael "Mike" Balducci begins to wonder what really happened that night so many years ago. But as he begins to dig, strange things begin happening around town: a few people turn up dead, others act strangely, and there is, supposedly, sightings of a strange entity in people's dreams and outside their windows...


**Hey guys! I'm not dead! How long has it been? Two years? Well anyway, I'm back from a long hiatus and I'm at it again!**

 **Now for those of you who are curious about my first story, _Surviving the Dead,_ well...it's in a weird place right now. ****Half of me wants to abandon it, but the other half of me wants to conduct some serious re-writes and continue on. Honestly, looking back, the vast majority of stuff written in there looks like something a twelve-year-old would write. So as of right now, the story is still on hiatus, and its fate is still up in the air.**

 **Also, I've got another story I've just started on. It's called _World War Z: The Lost Interviews,_ based on the novel _World War Z_ by Max Brooks. It i** **ncludes multiple perspectives that I felt like could've made the book even better. We get to listen to stories from the UK to Switzerland to Argentina to the United States, and many more. If you haven't checked it out yet, go and give the first six chapters a read. I'll be updating that story as frequently as I can! I also suggest go reading the book first, as that will help you get a better understanding of Brooks' universe.**

 **The idea for this story was a little random, but this is roughly based off of a certain creepypasta. I do not own Total Drama, or the creepypasta subject in the story. What exactly the subject is, will remain a mystery until further into the story. So allow your imaginations to run wild, hehe.**

 **Not sure how long this story will be, but I'm balancing writing this story as well as my _World War Z_ one, so who knows? Also, Mike is eighteen in this story, and he does not have MPD.**

 **As always, read, like, and review! Enjoy!**

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The world is full of scary things. Things that we can't explain, things we believe that aren't possible. Certain aspects of our civilization, such as religion, have tried to explain how the world operates the way does, like why humans and animals are the way they are, and stuff like that.

Now, there are still many aspects of our world and beyond that we still do not fully understand. We still do not know what lies at the bottom of the deepest parts of the sea. We do not know if extraterrestrial life is real or just a conspiracy. And we especially don't know everything about what treads on the surface...

The reason I'm telling you all of this is because something's been haunting me for quite some time. Normally, I'm the kind of guy that keeps things like this under wraps, but I feel like this is something I need to share with the world. Not just for my sake, but for anyone else out there who might have had similar experiences. My name is Michael Balducci, and this is my story, for lack of a better term.

Everyone in my family was deeply religious, but my mother was by far the most religious. A devout Roman Catholic, she always believed that God made very single creature on Earth for a reason. However, she also believed that there were certain creatures out there that almost seemed like they were "corrupted by the devil". I can't think of any specific examples at this time, but a common theme would be creatures that either appeared visually unnerving and/or were extremely violent towards humans. Of course, these kinds of creatures are few and far between, as she used to say. I miss my mom...

Anyway, I'm sure you're wondering how all this started. It's a pretty long story so sit back, grab yourself a nice cold beverage, and try your best to believe me.

I grew up in a small town about forty miles outside of Edmonton, Alberta. I was born to parents of Italian descent, with one little sister coming along six years after I was born. I loved both my parents, but my father and I had an extremely close relationship; we were, "partners in crime", as you might say. We would often spend weekends at the local lake fishing, or hiking on the many trails that ran through the local woods. He was also a jokester, always bringing smiles to mine and my mom's faces. Regardless of what activity we were doing, he would always tell me stories of his youth, or stories from his days in the army. That was his way of bonding with me. To me, it seemed like my father always had the answer to every question, feared nothing, and loved life overall. Unfortunately, I only knew him for the first seven years of my life...

My father's death was a rather...strange one, to say the least. Apparently, one afternoon, when he was supposed to pick me up from school, and he never showed up. I waited outside the school for about half an hour before deciding to walk home. On the way home, I walked on the side of the road, near the woods. I didn't know why, but it felt like someone, or some _thing,_ was watching me. I would often look to my right, towards the woods, but I would always see nothing.

It took me about an hour before I made it home. Honestly, it was a miracle I didn't get lost, as I had memorized the route my dad took by heart. We lived in a house with no other neighbors, so the yard was wide and spacious; perfect layout for outdoor activities. I came home to find the babysitter tending to my sister, who was one at the time. The babysitter was surprised to just see me, and not my dad. She asked, "Where's you dad?" After I said that I walked home, and that he never showed up at school, the babysitter told me to stay with my sister in the kitchen as she went to call my mom, who was still at work. Hours later, my mother was talking to the police, trying to get some answers on my father's whereabouts. The police said that they were doing all that they could to find him, and that she should get some rest. But my mother said no, and that she would stay up all night if need be until her husband was found.

I woke up the next morning, on a Saturday to be specific, to the faint sound of what sounded like wailing. I got up, opened my door, and wandered down the stairs, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes. I entered the living room, to see two policemen in the room, my mother on the floor crying her eyes out.

I softly said, "What's going on?"

One of the officers walked over to me and squatted, so he could look me straight in the eye. "Son," he said softly, "I am deeply sorry to tell you this, but your father is dead." Up until that point, that was the hardest I had ever cried in my life. The officer held me in his arms as I cried into his jacket. I kept saying, "It's not true. Daddy's not dead" over and over again. The officer stroked my hair and told me it's okay, but I knew he was lying.

I asked, "What happened to my dad?", but neither of the officers nor my mother would answer me. I soon began to think of every horrible thing imaginable that could have happened to my father. Did he crash his car? Was he mugged? Was he killed by a wild animal? I thought of that last possibility because due to the fact that the entire town was surrounded by woods, animals such as foxes, wolves, and even bears sometimes wander into town, or at least very close to the vicinity. But regardless of what had happened, I knew I would never see my best friend ever again.

That night, I laid in bed, thinking about my father. Compared to that morning, I was weeping softly, my tears staining my pillowcase. I held my stuffed teddy bear, Manny, tightly as I tried to fall asleep. After about ten minutes, I had run out of tears, and soon sleep began to overpower me. I started to dream about being in the woods with my father. We were on one of our usually hunting trips, us walking side by side, our rifles in hand. He soon stopped and held out his arm, stopping me from walking further. He pointed up ahead, to a large bush, where I could barely make out the outline of some creature. It appeared to be hunched over, but I couldn't know for certain. I looked up at my father, and he gave me a confident smile and nod, giving me the green light to shoot it. I raised my little .22 rifle, trying to find the best spot to shoot. I gripped the hand guard, put my finger on the small trigger and-

 ** _Tat-tat-tat-tat-tat_**

My eyes shot open, my dream evaporating. _What was that?_ I thought to myself. I could hear nothing else but the relatively quiet hum of the ceiling fan hanging in the center of the room. There is a window that looks out into the back yard, which in turn leads into the woods. I was facing away from it, instead laying on my left side and gazing at the wall ahead of me. The moonlight cast a small shadow on the wall. I wondered what was making this dark shape, but it was disproportionate and my eyes were still adjusting to the obscurity of my room. I assumed that it must have just been the curtains making that shadow so I closed my eyes and started to fall back into the dream world. I tried my best to recreate my previous dream, with my father and I observing the creature in the bush. My hands still on my rifle, aiming the gun slightly upward so that the sights were on the creature's back-

 ** _Tat-tat-tat-tat-tat_**

There it was again! I sat up this time, fear beginning to conquer my brain. _Where was that coming from?_ I thought. I looked to the closet, but it was shut, so the sound could not be coming from there. There was also no way it was coming from under my bed, because there was no way to get under it, as my bed was one of those beds where the frame had no legs. I looked up at the wall again, to ever so slightly, see the shadow that I presumed was the curtain move. I instinctively turned to my right to face the window. I nearly wet myself when I saw what was there.

It was only there for about a second, but before it vanished from view, I could see that the creature appeared to be grey, with large black eyes. Well, I didn't know if he even had eyes, or if those were just two holes where its eyes should have been. I screamed and almost tripped over myself trying to escape my sheets and run to my mother's room. She woke up the second I ran into the room, screaming and crying. I jumped into her arms, telling her that there was a monster outside my window, stuttering over my words. Still half-asleep, she pulled me into a hug, rubbing the back of my head.

"Shh, baby, it's okay," she said over and over again.

"D-Did the monster get dad?" I asked, my face half-buried in her night shirt. She assured me what every parent tells their child: that there was no such thing as monsters, and that Dad died a different way. It was at that point my baby sister had awoken from all the commotion, and was now wailing inside her crib. My mom briefly let me go to tend to my sister, leaving me sitting on the edge of the bed, wiping the tears out of my bloodshot eyes. Even though I should have, I never asked what had really happened to Dad. I figured asking would just make my mother cry even more, so I just kept my questions to myself.

Even though nothing happened after that night, I would come to realize years later that my father's death and the encounter with the mysterious creature were just the tip of the iceberg of the horror that awaited me...

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 **Well, how was that for a start? Not sure when I'll post the next chapter, but probably soon if everything in real life goes good. Also, once again, be sure to check out my new story _World War Z: The Lost Interviews_. Until next time, God bless!**


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